


The Healing of a Heart

by ShadowsOfBirds



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Healing, Romantic Fluff, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22491997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOfBirds/pseuds/ShadowsOfBirds
Summary: TW: self-harmMarianne is a healer; she can heal the scars on her wrists yet she chooses not to, as they represent the guilt and self-hate that she has carried throughout her life. It is not until Hilda shows her that her life has value that this begins to change.Warning: This will begin rather dark, although it ends much more positively.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 12
Kudos: 116





	The Healing of a Heart

She first noticed it while helping Marianne reorganize the library.

The academy enforced a uniform, so the initial sight of her classmate’s modest clothing was not out of the ordinary. Hilda assumed that Marianne simply preferred her modesty. _Perhaps she does not want to draw attention to herself, or she is afraid of the consequences for breaking the rules_ , Hilda reasoned.

It was not until she had begun spending more time with her classmate that she made some additional observations.

The first was that Marianne would not look her in the eyes. Hilda tested it; she would lay on the floor facing upwards, and Marianne would reactively shift her gaze from the floor to a window. If Marianne appeared unfocused, her eyes drifting off by their own accord, she still managed to snap back to attention quickly enough to turn away once Hilda entered her field of view. She got close, once. During a lesson in riding, Hilda thought for a moment that Marianne had _finally_ met her eyes, only to realize that Marianne was watching Hilda’s horse instead.

The second was that no matter how often Marianne excused herself for an early night, the signs of weariness on her face did not fade. Hilda could not recall a time in which Marianne’s complexion reflected anything other than exhaustion, which contradicted the amount of time Marianne supposedly spent resting.

The third observation Hilda made occurred in the library. After handing Marianne a book that needed to be placed on a shelf too high up for herself to reach, she watched Marianne grip the hem of her sleeves before extending her arms overhead. Presumably to keep her sleeves from sliding down. _But why?_ Hilda remained quiet, but the question continued to bother her. Keeping a curious eye on Marianne allowed Hilda to pick up on other subtle behaviors as well. Marianne seemed to have an itch on her forearms, just below the palms of her hands. She recoiled when Hilda reached for her arm, apologizing quickly, but nevertheless increasing the distance between them.

Hilda had grown concerned. The feeling was unfamiliar to her, and she sought a way to be rid of it. She began volunteering to assist Marianne with her tasks around the Monastery. Dodging the suspicious inquiries of her childhood friend Claude took some finesse, but it was worth the time it bought in which Hilda could learn more about this quiet, withdrawn girl who’d taken up permanent residence in Hilda’s mind.

\----

The process was slow, but eventually Hilda’s invitations weren’t rejected anymore. She had heard Marianne laugh for the first time and for the rest of that day, all she thought of was how her entire world seemed to glow in response, and how she’d do anything to hear it again. Marianne had taken to following Hilda around. Had she been anyone else, Hilda would have been irritated; yet with Marianne, she craved her companionship. She told stories of her childhood, shared secrets she had only ever told Holst, and drank in every smile that Marianne rewarded her with, no matter how small. Hilda couldn’t place when it happened, but she knew this girl had become someone she didn’t ever want to be without.

It wasn’t until their class arrived at the Tower of Black Winds’ peak that Hilda felt that fear return. They stood beside each other in horror as the man before them was transformed into a monstrous corruption of bloodlust and hate. She felt Marianne’s anguish as if it were her own. Searching for a glimpse into Marianne’s mind, she saw only the silent, disheartened face of the girl she knew from months prior.

Marianne did not speak beyond what was needed for her magic, and on the journey back she had shut herself away fully. Despite the proximity, Hilda felt as if she had lost her. Back at the monastery, Marianne walked away without a word, firmly closing the door to her room behind her.

Later that night, Hilda had kicked off her covers, fluffed her pillows and adjusted her sleeping position countless times to no avail. She could not erase her unease at the memory of Marianne’s shutdown earlier that day. _I wonder if Marianne is okay… I won’t be able to sleep until I know for sure._

Hilda left her room in a loose tank and shorts with her hair flowing down her back, uninterested in the delay of getting properly dressed. It was hardly a walk to Marianne’s door; being as they are both nobles, their dorms were within sight of each other. She pressed an ear to the door and heard a quiet sniffle. A few seconds later, another sniffle. _Is she crying?_

Hilda gently knocked on the door and heard a shuffling from inside, as if Marianne were scrambling to move or hide something. After a moment of quiet, Marianne whispers from behind the door. “W-who is it?” _Sniffle._

“Hilda. Can I come in?” Her question is met with silence. “Marianne?”

“It’s, um… p-past curfew…”

 _Well. That wasn’t a no._ Hilda bit her lip, too stubborn to give up so easily.

“I can’t sleep,” Hilda pouted. “Please?” Hilda employs all the patience she has and then borrows a little extra to keep from pressuring Marianne further. _It’s me. She’s got to know she can trust me, right?_

A click signals to Hilda that Marianne has unlocked her door. Hilda pushes on the door gently, and slips into the room as soon as she can squeeze through it. She hastily locks it behind her, fumbling a bit in the dim lighting of Marianne’s room. _Did I lock my own door?_ She wonders, ultimately deciding it isn’t worth checking. _Let’s hope the professor doesn’t make nightly rounds._

Marianne has only the flickering light of a barely functional candle lighting the room, but Hilda’s eyes adjust after a few rapid blinks. Marianne is standing as far from the door as possible, avoiding eye contact and gripping her sleeve so hard Hilda can see the whites of her knuckles. She’s in a nightgown, and her hair cascades around her shoulders in waves. _Wow._ Hilda can’t help herself from staring; the candle’s light creates the illusion that her turquoise hair is rippling like the depths of the ocean.

“I… Um…”

Hilda shakes off her distraction at the sound of Marianne’s soft voice and can see that Marianne is trying to hide something. Hilda takes a few steps closer and Marianne reactively steps to one side, moving her arms behind her back and leaning subtly. _Okay, she’s definitely hiding something._

“Marianne, what…” Hilda’s eyes widen as she peers around Marianne and finds a dagger, its edges dipped in blood. Glancing at Marianne’s face, she sees that beautiful hair had become slightly matted around Marianne’s cheeks, giving away the tears even after they had dried. Marianne’s face was tilted towards the ceiling, and her eyes closed. Hilda reaches for Marianne with care, opting to grasp her hands instead of her arm. Marianne remains motionless, allowing Hilda to lift her sleeves. A new stream of tears begins to fall as her embarrassment overwhelms her desire for composure.

Hilda is speechless. She expected _something,_ but not this. Unsure what to say, Hilda absentmindedly traces her thumb below the palm of Marianne’s hand, carefully following alongside the wound. _Why this? Why her?_ She can feel Marianne trembling beneath her touch, and can’t resist peering up at her face once more. No longer watching her movements, Hilda accidentally grazes an open cut; Marianne winces at the touch and sharply pulls away, turning her back to Hilda.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Hilda offers in a hushed tone. “… Can you look at me?”

Marianne shakes her head. Sighing, Hilda steps forward and wraps her arms around her, resting her head on Marianne’s shoulder. To her delight, Marianne leans her head to rest on Hilda’s.

“I h-have to…” Marianne’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Hilda hears her perfectly.

“Why?”

Silence.

“Mari.” Hilda squeezes before releasing Marianne and circling to face her. Before Marianne can hide herself again, Hilda catches her by her upper arm and gently tugs for her to sit with her. Marianne complies, placing her hands safely in her lap and her head down so her hair forms a barrier between herself and Hilda. “What can I do?”

Marianne wordlessly points a shaking finger towards the bottom left side of her closet, and Hilda slides it open to find a box containing bandages and other medical supplies. _But… Can’t she use her magic? Why does she even have this?_

“Do you want me to use this?” Hilda asks. Marianne nods in response, and Hilda starts working on cleaning up Marianne’s wounds. Hilda feels a lump form in her throat as she realizes that this is likely a frequent occurrence. Once she has Marianne’s skin reasonably blood-free, she grabs one side of the bandages with her teeth and uses her free hand to wrap Marianne’s wrists. “These will scar.”

Seeing that Marianne’s now staring into the candle’s meager flame, Hilda feels a sadness envelop her. _Come back to me,_ she pleads. She’s reluctant to ask, but the question gnaws at her until she caves.

“Can’t you heal yourself, Mari? I’m not saying I mind,” she adds. “I can’t do as much as you, though. It’ll leave scars…”

“I know.” Marianne replies, her voice weighted with resignation. The sadness in Marianne’s reply nearly breaks Hilda. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.” _I should tell someone, but… she needs me. I can’t disappoint her, I just can’t._

Hilda listened intently as Marianne confided in her the nature of her crest, which had been renamed “the crest of the Beast.” She held Marianne’s hand, reassuring her through the trembles as she recounted the terror she felt in seeing a Beasts’ transformation firsthand, and the shame that struck her in believing that would one day be her.

Marianne spoke in great detail about the dangers that befall those close to her, including her guilt for her crest’s involvement in her parents’ disappearance, and how she ended up under Margrave Edmund’s care. Her living at the monastery was just another method of isolation; she spoke fondly of her adoptive father, yet here she was, being kept at a safe distance from him as well. Her voice faltered as she admitted that she had been instructed not to disclose her crest to anyone, for fear of harming them as well. By the broken look in Marianne’s eyes, Hilda knew that she expected to lose her too. _I will not let that happen,_ vowed Hilda.

“So you see…” Marianne weakly lifts her arms, “this is what I deserve...”

“Says who?” Responds an indignant Hilda. Marianne gives her a sad smile before continuing.

“I pray to the Goddess every day that she return me to her. I am nothing more than a curse, and no good to anyone. My selfishness will hurt you too.”

Hilda catches Marianne’s attention wandering towards where her dagger lay, still colored red from earlier.

“NO.” Hilda interrupted, more forcefully than she intended. _Not because of me. She will not blame herself for something happening to me._

“Hilda,” Marianne’s eyes softened, and she studied Hilda’s face, noticing her tears before Hilda herself did. “You’re crying…”

Her cheeks grew red and she wiped her face off, not having noticed until Marianne pointed it out. Marianne’s look turned to one of confusion. “Why are you…”

 _Oh, those big, brown eyes. Only she can make me feel like this,_ Hilda sighed.

“I don’t know,” Hilda laughed nervously. “Mari… I know I’m not the most devout noble out there, but I do know the Goddess doesn’t dictate the worth of a person, their heart does. You are _good._ Better than me, even, because all you do is think of others.”

“I d-don’t-“

“You _do_!” Hilda emphasized, her expression growing more enthusiastic. “All of this is because you think you’re responsible for what’s wrong in other peoples’ lives, and you’re willing to sacrifice yourself to make it better for them. Mari, no one with a heart like yours could ever be a curse.”

Marianne looked at Hilda shyly, apprehensively, as if one wrong move on her part would destroy everything Hilda had just told her. “You probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

A silence fell between them as Marianne processed Hilda’s words. Hilda, as usual, broke the silence.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

Hilda took Marianne’s hand in hers and flipped them upwards so she could point towards the bandaged wounds. “Next time you want to do this, come to me first.”

Marianne stared at her arm for a moment before answering.

“I don’t want to be a bother…” Marianne replied sadly.

Hilda knew asking Marianne to undo years of self-destructive behaviors in one night would be a stretch, and it crossed her mind that she normally would have given up by now. To invest the time and energy and fail in the end… Hilda’s stomach churned at the thought. Despite all that, sitting beside Marianne now, what Hilda saw in those eyes was a vulnerability she just couldn’t ignore.

The realization came slowly, and with it came a smile Hilda would only share with Marianne, from that moment until their last. She felt it in her heart, her lungs, and every muscle in her body; she _loves_ Marianne, more than she’s ever loved anyone – and no matter how long it takes or what she has to do, she will see to it that this beautiful, kind, radiant girl never feels like a curse again.

\----

With a major milestone behind them, Marianne and Hilda’s time at the monastery evolves into something greater; Marianne remains closed off from the other students and the faculty, but when it’s just the two of them, Hilda sees a side to Marianne no one else does. The same girl she told her secrets and her stories to had returned to her, only this time, Hilda saw a light reflected in her eyes. _Call it hope, trust, love; whatever it is, I know she saves it for me._

\----

The confession comes during their time apart. She would be lying if she said she didn’t spend every day thinking of Marianne and wondering if she was okay without Hilda there to support her. She would visit as often as possible to ensure that Marianne didn’t lose faith in the promise Hilda made all those years ago.

When they’d reunite, Marianne’s face would glow with delight. Hilda treasured those moments above all else. As they laid below the trees in the warm company of the summer sun, Hilda tucked a hair behind Marianne’s ear and smiled as the blush creeped into that beautiful face she’d fallen in love with. Marianne’s brows furrowed in thought and Hilda hardly registered it as the words, “I love you” floated in the space between them. As Marianne worriedly searched her expression for a response, Hilda saw that somehow, Marianne _didn’t_ know that Hilda loved her back, that she’s loved her for Goddess knows _how_ long; she’d spent nights imagining the softness of Marianne’s lips and the feeling of Marianne beneath her. She would hear Marianne’s laugh and picture the way she’d look walking down the aisle, how they would grow old together, hand in hand.

Hilda knew words couldn’t describe how she felt, and Marianne, sweet, innocent Marianne, needed an answer now.

She leaned over, taking Marianne’s hand and placing it over her heart; as she felt the furious pace in which Hilda’s heart pounded, Marianne’s eyes widened, and a small gasp escaped her lips. Before another moment could pass, Hilda’s lips had found hers in an accumulation of love, longing and acceptance that had been built over years of devotion and understanding. Unwilling to break the kiss, Hilda’s words flowed directly into Marianne.

“I love you too.”

\----

The familiar sound of birds chirping in the window woke Hilda a bit earlier than she’d expected, although the spring air that wafted in from the nearby meadow made up for it rather quickly. Looking over her shoulder she sees Marianne’s eyes fluttering, and the soft rise and fall of her wife’s chest that indicated she remained asleep. Her blue hair sprawled wildly across the light pink pillow she favored; she rarely slept with it up, and Hilda preferred it that way. No matter how many mornings she awoke to the sight, Hilda never grew tired of it.

Stretching, Hilda climbs out of bed and reaches for a blanket. She is in a loose top and panties with her hair cast forward over one shoulder, and while it is warm outside, she brings the blanket with her just in case.

They had chosen a comfortable home close enough for Hilda to reach the town without too much trouble, but far enough away for Marianne to spend her free afternoons alone with the animals that lived there. Hilda came to find that she enjoyed the space; it gave her time to be with her wife in which neither of them were bothered by traders, other nobles or any manner of nuisance that could’ve befallen them in a more centralized home. Most importantly, when she looked into Marianne’s eyes, she found happiness within them.

“Love?” Marianne’s soft voice asked as she peered through the door to the balcony and saw Hilda looking back at her from inside their hammock. A smile warmer than the sun invited Marianne to join her.

“Good morning, Mari.” Hilda replied, giving Marianne a quick kiss as she settled in beside her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Marianne lifted her arm so Hilda could wiggle her way into resting on her chest. Hilda sighs in contentment as Marianne runs her fingers through her hair and down her back in light motions.

“I could fall asleep like this.” Hilda murmurs. Marianne hums in response.

“Oh, look! The wild horses are passing.”

The excitement in Marianne’s voice elicits a chuckle out of Hilda. Blinking sleepily, she follows her wife’s outstretched hand, only to pause just before turning her attention to the herd. What she’s noticed is far more important.

“Mari, your scars,” Hilda whispers. “They’re gone?”

Marianne’s gaze shifts back to her wife and she is met with a mixture of surprise and awe in those vibrantly pink eyes. She feels a blush rise in her cheeks; after all this time, Hilda still manages to make her feel like she’s the most important person in the world, and she does it with as simple as a look. Her love has brought color to Marianne’s life; there is nothing that has come close to matching the impact she has had. It is the purity and unconditional nature of this love that has healed her fragmented soul.

“I healed the scars on my skin just as you have healed the scars in my heart,” she explains, following with a gentle kiss. “I no longer feel that I need them. Thank you for freeing me, my love.”

Hilda’s breath catches in her throat as she processes the magnitude of what Marianne has said. The adoration she feels in that moment is cathartic; Hilda had been waiting a long time to hear those words. As Marianne holds her in that hammock, the sun shining on her face, her hair unbound and the marks of guilt erased from her skin, Hilda knows the words to be true.

Marianne is finally free.


End file.
